By Jack Peat, Editor of The London Economic
In London, the land of the real deal, poor imitations stick out like a sore thumb.
Described as being a ‘stylish nightclub with 1970s-themed disco, a club room and restaurant with an eclectic menu’, The Sway is more akin to a Wetherspoons with a bit of icing sugar on top. The ballroom interior with private leather booths and chandeliers lulls you into a false perception of grandeur when you first arrive which is soon crushed by drinks menus littered with Woo Woos and Porn Star Martinis and a so-called ‘eclectic menu’ which is essentially kitchen trickery for how many different food items they can throw in the deep fat fryer.
Dismayed as we were that this Monday, of all Mondays, was the one when we didn’t find ourselves on a hen party we decided to persevere regardless and look at the beers and wine on offer, but found little solace. The ‘Craft Beer’ selection brought a tear to my eye as I witnessed a once dynamic term being misused to advertise the mass-produced Brooklyn Lager and BrewDog for £5.70 a pop and a ‘list’ of wines that was limited to overpriced Spanish and Chilean exports, the only ones worth drinking priced at over £30 a bottle.
Despite the fact that any discerning guest could see through the establishment’s upper-class guise the waiters were hell-bent on maintaining the pompous ruse. The young chap that was serving our table lived up to the “appalling service, attitude and severe lack of customer service or any skills” that I had read about before visiting the venue. Unhelpful was certainly an apt description of our short run-in with this particular member of staff, but his rude demeanour was the final nail in the coffin.
I asked myself before penning this whether it was fair of me to write a review of The Sway based on the three minutes that it took for us to decide to walk out and go to the pub across the road. Well, I still talk of the shocking three minutes in which I lost my virginity to this day, and if that sorry tale can survive, so can this one. But where I’d like to think I’ve improved drastically since then, I don’t think the Sway ever will. If you’re ever unfortunate enough to find yourself in this poor excuse for a bar I’d advise that you neck enough fish bowls so that you can overlook its many shortcomings; that’s how I dealt with losing my virginity.